二月初，贺拉斯和玛西亚结婚了。这在耶鲁和普林斯顿学术圈里引起了巨大的轰动。十四岁就在一家都市报的周日杂志专栏发表文章的贺拉斯·塔波克斯，现在放弃了自己的事业，放弃了成为美国哲学领域世界权威的机会，娶了一位合唱团的姑娘——他们认为玛西亚是合唱团的。但是和现代所有的奇谈怪事一样，这桩奇闻也只热闹了四天半便归于平静了。
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Horace and Marcia were married early in February. The sensation in academic circles both at Yale and Princeton was tremendous. Horace Tarbox, who at fourteen had been played up in the Sunday magazines sections of metropolitan newspapers, was throwing over his career, his chance of being a world authority on American philosophy, by marrying a chorus girl—they made Marcia a chorus girl. But like all modern stories it was a four-and-a-half-day wonder.
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他们在哈莱姆(5)租了一套公寓。经过两个礼拜的求职，贺拉斯的学术知识价值观无情地崩塌了。他在一家南美出口公司谋得了一个小职员的职位——他听人讲过出口业很有前途。玛西亚打算继续在剧团里多待几个月——无论如何她都要坚持到他站稳脚跟再说。尽管有人告诉他，几个月后，他就可以挣到双倍工资，但开始时他的月薪只有一百二十美元，因此玛西亚甚至拒绝考虑放弃她当时每个礼拜能挣到一百五十美元的工作。
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They took a flat in Harlem. After two weeks’ search, during which his idea of the value of academic knowledge faded unmercifully, Horace took a position as clerk with a South American export company—some one had told him that exporting was the coming thing. Marcia was to stay in her show for a few months—anyway until he got on his feet. He was getting a hundred and twenty-five to start with, and though of course they told him it was only a question of months until he would be earning double that, Marcia refused even to consider giving up the hundred and fifty a week that she was getting at the time.
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“亲爱的，我们把我们自己称作‘头和肩膀’吧，”她温柔地说，“肩膀可以继续抖动得久一点，一直到这颗古老的脑袋也开始抖动起来为止。”
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“We’ll call ourselves Head and Shoulders, dear,” she said softly, “and the shoulders’ll have to keep shaking a little longer until the old head gets started.”
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“我不喜欢这个样子。”他闷闷不乐地反驳道。
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“I hate it,” he objected gloomily.
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“嗯，”她加重语气说，“你的工资还不够我们付房租呢。别以为我想出风头——我才不想呢。我只想做你的妻子。但是，要是你让我闲坐在屋子里，一边等你，一边数墙纸上的太阳花，我会变成弱智的。等你每个月能挣到三百美元的时候，我就辞职。”
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“Well,” she replied emphatically, “your salary wouldn’t keep us in a tenement. Don’t think I want to be public—I don’t. I want to be yours. But I’d be a half-wit to sit in one room and count the sun flowers on the wall-paper while I waited for you. When you pull down three hundred a month I’ll quit.”
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尽管这话很伤自尊，贺拉斯也不得不承认，她的想法更加切合实际。
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And much as it hurt his pride, Horace had to admit that hers was the wiser course.
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从三月到四月，日子过得和和美美。到了五月，曼哈顿的公园里、小河边，到处洋溢着的欢声笑语也见证了他们的幸福。贺拉斯没有什么爱好——他没有培养爱好的时间——然而事实证明他是个十分称职的丈夫。而且因为玛西亚对于令贺拉斯十分着迷的事情完全没有意见，因此，他们几乎没有什么磕磕碰碰的矛盾。他们有各自的分工。玛西亚实际上扮演了务实的管家的角色，而贺拉斯要么依然生活在他过去那抽象思维的世界里，要么就心满意足地生活在对妻子全心全意的崇拜中。她让他惊喜不断——她的想法鲜活而新颖，她活力四射、头脑清醒，她有永不枯竭的幽默感。
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March mellowed into April. May read a gorgeous riot act to the parks and waters of Manhatten, and they were very happy. Horace, who had no habits whatsoever—he had never had time to form any—proved the most adaptable of husbands, and as Marcia entirely lacked opinions on the subjects that engrossed him there were very few jottings and bumping. Their minds moved in different spheres. Marcia acted as practical factotum, and Horace lived either in his old world of abstract ideas or in a sort of triumphantly earthy worship and adoration of his wife. She was a continual source of astonishment to him—the freshness and originality of her mind, her dynamic, clear-headed energy, and her unfailing good humor.
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无论玛西亚在哪里展示她的表演才华，她对丈夫的聪明才智所流露出的无与伦比的自豪都会令她的九点档节目的同事们印象深刻。他们只知道贺拉斯是一个文弱而不苟言笑、看上去稚气未脱的年轻人，他每天晚上都等着接她回家。
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And Marcia’s co-workers in the nine-o’clock show, whither she had transferred her talents, were impressed with her tremendous pride in her husband’s mental powers. Horace they knew only as a very slim, tight-lipped, and immature-looking young man, who waited every night to take her home.
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“贺拉斯，”一天晚上，玛西亚像往常一样在十一点钟见到他时说道，“你站在街灯下时，看上去像个鬼魂。你瘦了是不是？”
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“Horace,” said Marcia one evening when she met him as usual at eleven, “you looked like a ghost standing there against the street lights. You losing weight?”
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他不知其可地摇摇头。
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He shook his head vaguely.
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“我不知道。今天他们把我的工资涨到了一百三十五美元，还有——”
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“I don’t know. They raised me to a hundred and thirty-five dollars to-day, and—”
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“我不在乎，”玛西亚严肃地说，“你要是再熬夜工作的话，非把自己累死不可。你看那些经济的大部头书本——”
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“I don’t care,” said Marcia severely. “You’re killing yourself working at night. You read those big books on economy—”
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“经济学。”贺拉斯纠正道。
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“Economics,” corrected Horace.
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“哦，每天晚上，我都睡了很久了，你还在看这些书。你又回到我们结婚前那种弯腰弓背的状态了。”
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“Well, you read ’em every night long after I’m asleep. And you’re getting all stooped over like you were before we were married.”
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“可是，玛西亚，我必须——”
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“But, Marcia, I’ve got to—”
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“不，你用不着那样，亲爱的。我想，现在我是老板，我可不想让我的伙计把身体累垮，把眼睛累坏。你得锻炼锻炼身体了。”
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“No, you haven’t dear. I guess I’m running this shop for the present, and I won’t let my fella ruin his health and eyes. You got to get some exercise.”
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“我锻炼了。每天早上我——”
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“I do. Every morning I—”
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“哦，我知道！但是你的那些哑铃根本消耗不了多少热量。我的意思是真正的锻炼。你得去健身房。还记得你对我说过的，你曾经是个体操健将，有人想把你选进大学体操队去，可他们没能如愿，因为当时你正和赫伯特·斯宾塞见面？”
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“Oh, I know! But those dumb-bells of yours wouldn’t give a consumptive two degrees of fever. I mean real exercise. You’ve got to join a gymnasium. ’Member you told me you were such a trick gymnast once that they tried to get you out for the team in college and they couldn’t because you had a standing date with Herb Spencer?”
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“以前我喜欢锻炼，”贺拉斯思虑重重地说，“可是现在锻炼太浪费时间了。”
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“I used to enjoy it,” mused Horace, “but it would take up too much time now.”
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“好吧，”玛西亚说，“我和你做个交易。你去健身房健身，我就从你那排发黄的书里面挑一本来读。”
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“All right,” said Marcia. “I’ll make a bargain with you. You join a gym and I’ll read one of those books from the brown row of ’em.”
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“《佩皮斯日记》吗？哦，那本书应该很有意思，读起来很轻松。”
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“‘Pepys’ Diary’? Why, that ought to be enjoyable. He’s very light.”
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“对我来说，可不是这样——一点都不轻松，就像啃厚玻璃板一样。不过，你一直对我说，这本书能让我眼界大开。好吧，你每个礼拜去三次健身房，我就服一剂大剂量的塞米(6)。”
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“Not for me—he isn’t. It’ll be like digesting plate glass. But you been telling me how much it’d broaden my lookout. Well, you go to a gym three nights a week and I’ll take one big dose of Sammy.”
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贺拉斯犹豫不决。
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Horace hesitated.
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“呃——”
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“Well—”
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“好了，就这么定了！你为我做几个大回环，我为你学点文化知识。”
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“Come on, now! You do some giant swings for me and I’ll chase some culture for you.”
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就这样，贺拉斯终于同意了，整个烈日炎炎的夏天，他每个礼拜都花三或四个晚上到斯基珀健身房去练习吊环。八月份，他向玛西亚承认，锻炼使他白天的脑力劳动更有效率。
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So Horace finally consented, and all through a baking summer he spent three and sometimes four evenings a week experimenting on the trapeze in Skipper’s Gymnasium. And in August he admitted to Marcia that it made him capable of more mental work during the day.
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“健全的灵魂寓于健全的体魄。”他说道。
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“Mens sana in corpore sano,” he said.
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“别信那些玩意儿，”玛西亚答道，“我吃过那些特效药，全都是垃圾。(7)你只管坚持去健身房就好了。”
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“Don’t believe in it,” replied Marcia. “I tried one of those patent medicines once and they’re all bunk. You stick to gymnastics.”
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九月初的一个晚上，在一间几乎空无一人的健身房里，他正在完成一个高难度的吊环扭体动作，一个若有所思的胖男人和他搭起话来，他注意到这个人已经观察他几个晚上了。
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One night in early September while he was going through one of his contortions on the rings in the nearly deserted room he was addressed by a meditative fat man whom he had noticed watching him for several nights.
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“嗨，小伙子，再展示一下你昨天晚上的那个绝活儿。”
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“Say, lad, do that stunt you were doin’ last night.”
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贺拉斯在吊环上咧开嘴冲他笑了笑。
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Horace grinned at him from his perch.
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“我自创的，”他说，“受到了欧几里得第四定理的启发。”
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“I invented it,” he said. “I got the idea from the fourth proposition of Euclid.”
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“他是哪个马戏团的？”
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“What circus he with?”
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“他已经死了。”
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“He’s dead.”
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“哦，他一定是在做那个绝活儿时折断了脖子。昨天晚上我坐在这里想，你肯定也会把你的脖子弄断的。”
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“Well, he must of broke his neck doin’ that stunt. I set here last night thinkin’ sure you was goin’ to break yours.”
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“像这样！”贺拉斯说着，把吊环荡起来，演示了他的绝活儿。
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“Like this!” said Horace, and swinging onto the trapeze he did his stunt.
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“这不会扭伤脖子和肩膀上的筋肉吗？”
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“Don’t it kill your neck an’ shoulder muscles?”
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“刚开始的时候会，但是一个礼拜后，就不会了。”
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“It did at first, but inside of a week I wrote the quod erat demonstrandum on it.”
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“呵！”
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“Hm!”
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贺拉斯悠闲地抓着吊环荡来荡去。
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Horace swung idly on the trapeze.
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“有没有想过把这个作为你的职业？”胖男人问道。
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“Ever think of takin’ it up professionally?” asked the fat man.
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“没想过。”
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“Not I.”
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“要是愿意干这个绝活儿，能挣大钱，没准还能出名哩。”
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“Good money in it if you’re willin’ to do stunts like ’at an’ can get away with it.”
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“还有个绝招呢。”贺拉斯热切而欢快地说。胖男人看到这个身穿粉色针织运动衫的普罗米修斯再次公然挑衅上帝和牛顿的时候，顿时惊得目瞪口呆。
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“Here’s another,” chirped Horace eagerly, and the fat man’s mouth dropped suddenly agape as he watched this pink-jerseyed Prometheus again defy the gods and Isaac Newton.
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这次见面的第二天，贺拉斯下班回到家，发现玛西亚脸色苍白，正躺在沙发上等他。
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The night following this encounter Horace got home from work to find a rather pale Marcia stretched out on the sofa waiting for him.
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“今天我晕倒了两次。”她直接说。
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“I fainted twice to-day,” she began without preliminaries.
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“什么？”
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“What?”
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“是的。你瞧，再过四个月宝宝就出生了。医生说我两个礼拜前就不该再跳舞了。”
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“Yep. You see baby’s due in four months now. Doctor says I ought to have quit dancing two weeks ago.”
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贺拉斯坐下来认真思考。
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Horace sat down and thought it over.
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“我很高兴，当然，”他心事重重地说，“我的意思是我很高兴我们要有孩子了。但是这意味着我们今后得花很多钱。”
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“I’m glad of course,” he said pensively—“I mean glad that we’re going to have a baby. But this means a lot of expense.”
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“我有两百五十美元的存款，”玛西亚满怀希望地说，“而且还有两个礼拜的薪水没有领呢。”
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“I’ve got two hundred and fifty in the bank,” said Marcia hopefully, “and two weeks’ pay coming.”
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贺拉斯飞快地计算着。
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Horace computed quickly.
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“加上我的工资，接下来的半年时间里，我们差不多总共会有一千四百美元。”
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“Inducing my salary, that’ll give us nearly fourteen hundred for the next six months.”
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玛西亚看起来忧心忡忡。
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Marcia looked blue.
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“总共就这么多吗？当然了，这个月我可以找个地方唱歌。三月份的时候，我就又可以去上班了。”
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“That all? Course I can get a job singing somewhere this month. And I can go to work again in March.”
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“当然不要你操心了！”贺拉斯粗鲁地说，“你就乖乖待在家里。现在我们来看看——除了保姆费，还要支付医生和护士的费用。我们还得再准备点钱。”
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“Of course nothing!” said Horace gruffly. “You’ll stay right here. Let’s see now—there’ll be doctor’s bills and a nurse, besides the maid. We’ve got to have some more money.”
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“哦，”玛西亚疲惫不堪地说，“我可不知道从哪儿弄啦。现在得靠这颗古老的脑袋，不关肩膀的事了。”
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“Well,” said Marcia wearily, “I don’t know where it’s coming from. It’s up to the old head now. Shoulders is out of business.”
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贺拉斯站起来，穿上了外套。
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Horace rose and pulled on his coat.
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“你要去哪里？”
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“Where are you going?”
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“我有办法了，”他答道，“我很快就回来。”
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“I’ve got an idea,” he answered. “I’ll be right back.”
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十分钟后，他已经走在通往斯基珀健身房的路上。他感到心平气和，又觉得十分奇妙，这种感受很纯粹，不掺杂任何滑稽的成分。要是在一年前，他会对自己的这个决定感到多么惊讶！大家又会感到多么惊讶啊！然而，当生活叩响了你的大门，你敞开大门迎接的不仅是生活本身，还会有许多东西纷至沓来。
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Ten minutes later as he headed down the street toward Skipper’s Gymnasium he felt a placid wonder, quite unmixed with humor, at what he was going to do. How he would have gaped at himself a year before! How every one would have gaped! But when you opened your door at the rap of life you let in many things.
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健身房里灯光明亮，他等眼睛适应过来后，发现那个若有所思的胖男人正坐在一堆帆布垫子上抽着一根大雪茄。
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The gymnasium was brightly lit, and when his eyes became accustomed to the glare he found the meditative fat man seated on a pile of canvas mats smoking a big cigar.
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“嗨，”贺拉斯开门见山地说，“昨天晚上你说我的吊环绝技可以赚钱，这话是真的吗？”
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“Say,” began Horace directly, “were you in earnest last night when you said I could make money on my trapeze stunts?”
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“哦，那还用说？”胖男人吃惊地说。
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“Why, yes,” said the fat man in surprise.
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“嗯，我一直都在考虑这件事，我想我愿意试试。我可以晚上和礼拜六下午来表演——而且如果报酬足够高的话，我可以每天都来。”
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“Well, I’ve been thinking it over, and I believe I’d like to try it. I could work at night and on Saturday afternoons—and regularly if the pay is high enough.”
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胖男人看了看手表。
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The fat men looked at his watch.
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“哦，”他说，“查理·鲍尔森才是你要见的人。他要是看到你的表演，不出四天就会用你。他现在不在，不过明天晚上我会替你盯住他。”
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“Well,” he said, “Charlie Paulson’s the man to see. He’ll book you inside of four days, once he sees you work out. He won’t be in now, but I’ll get hold of him for to-morrow night.”
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胖男人很守信用。第二天晚上，查理·鲍尔森来了，他花了一个小时的时间，无比惊诧地观看了这位天才在空中上下翻飞、左右腾跃，画出无数条令人惊叹的抛物线。再过了一晚，他带来了两个人，他们人高马大，看上去似乎一生下来就会抽黑雪茄，一直在小声而兴致勃勃地谈论跟钱有关的事情。然后，在接下来的那个礼拜六，贺拉斯·塔波克斯在科尔曼街花园进行了首次职业亮相表演。尽管观众几乎有五千人之多，贺拉斯却一点都不觉得紧张。他从很小就开始当众朗读他的论文，深谙把自己与观众隔离的技巧。
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The fat man was as good as his word. Charlie Paulson arrived next night and put in a wondrous hour watching the prodigy swap through the air in amazing parabolas, and on the night following he brought two large men with him who looked as though they had been born smoking black cigars and talking about money in low, passionate voices. Then on the succeeding Saturday Horace Tarbox’s torso made its first professional appearance in a gymnastic exhibition at the Coleman Street Gardens. But though the audience numbered nearly five thousand people, Horace felt no nervousness. From his childhood he had read papers to audiences—learned that trick of detaching himself.
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“玛西亚，”当天晚上表演结束后，他欣喜地说，“我想我们有解决问题的办法了。鲍尔森觉得他能在竞技场剧院为我弄到一个空缺，能干上一整个冬天。竞技场剧院，你知道，是个大——”
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“Marcia,” he said cheerfully later that same night, “I think we’re out of the woods. Paulson thinks he can get me an opening at the Hippodrome, and that means an all-winter engagement. The Hippodrome you know, is a big—”
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“是的，我相信我听说过这家剧院，”玛西亚打断了他的话，“但是，我想知道你表演的这个绝活儿，不会是那种场面壮烈的自杀型表演吧？”
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“Yes, I believe I’ve heard of it,” interrupted Marcia, “but I want to know about this stunt you’re doing. It isn’t any spectacular suicide, is it?”
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“小事一桩，”贺拉斯平静地说，“不过，如果你能告诉我，男人以哪种方式自杀会比为你冒险更好的话，那么没关系，我宁愿那样去死。”
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“It’s nothing,” said Horace quietly. “But if you can think of an nicer way of a man killing himself than taking a risk for you, why that’s the way I want to die.”
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玛西亚张开双臂紧紧搂住他的脖子。
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Marcia reached up and wound both arms tightly round his neck.
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“亲我，”她轻轻地说，“叫我‘心肝宝贝’。我喜欢听你叫我‘心肝宝贝’。给我一本书让我明天看。我不要再看塞姆·佩皮斯了，我想看点浅显有意思的东西。我整天无聊死了，实在想做点什么。我想写信，可是我不知道给谁写。”
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“Kiss me,” she whispered, “and call me ‘dear heart.’ I love to hear you say ‘dear heart.’ And bring me a book to read to-morrow. No more Sam Pepys, but something trick and trashy. I’ve been wild for something to do all day. I felt like writing letters, but I didn’t have anybody to write to.”
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“给我写，”贺拉斯说，“我会看的。”
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“Write to me,” said Horace. “I’ll read them.”
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“希望我可以，”玛西亚吸了口气，“如果我认的字够多，我会给你写一封世界上最长的情书，而且永远不会为此感到厌倦。”
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“I wish I could,” breathed Marcia. “If I knew words enough I could write you the longest love-letter in the world—and never get tired.”
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然而，又过了两个月，玛西亚变得越来越疲惫。一连几个晚上，年轻的贺拉斯都是一脸焦灼、精疲力竭地站在竞技场剧院的观众面前。因此，一个年轻人替他暂时表演了两个晚上。这个人穿着浅蓝色而非白色的运动装，几乎没有人给他鼓掌。不过两天后，贺拉斯重新出场了，那些坐得离舞台较近的观众从这个年轻的杂技演员的脸上看到了一种快乐而安详的幸福表情，甚至当他在空中上气不接下气地做着各种翻转，表演他那令人赞叹的、自创的肩部动作时，也都是如此。在那次表演之后，他冲负责开电梯的人笑了笑，然后五步并作一步地冲到楼上的公寓里——踮着脚尖小心翼翼地进入安静的房间。
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But after two more months Marcia grew very tired indeed, and for a row of nights it was a very anxious, weary-looking young athlete who walked out before the Hippodrome crowd. Then there were two days when his place was taken by a young man who wore pale blue instead of white, and got very little applause. But after the two days Horace appeared again, and those who sat close to the stage remarked an expression of beatific happiness on that young acrobat’s face, even when he was twisting breathlessly in the air an the middle of his amazing and original shoulder swing. After that performance he laughed at the elevator man and dashed up the stairs to the flat five steps at a time—and then tiptoed very carefully into a quiet room.
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“玛西亚。”他轻轻地叫道。
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“Marcia,” he whispered.
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“嗨！”她虚弱地朝他笑笑，“贺拉斯，我想让你做点事情。到书橱最上面的抽屉里找找看，有一大叠纸。那是一本书——就算是书吧——贺拉斯，那是我这三个月待在家里闲得无聊的时候写的。我希望你能把它送到那个曾把我的信刊登上报的彼得·博伊斯·文德尔那儿。他会告诉你这是不是一本好书。我写书的风格和我讲话一个样，就是和我写给他的那封信的风格一个样。只是一个故事，是我亲身经历过的很多事情。你会把它送给他吗，贺拉斯？”
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“Hello!” She smiled up at him wanly. “Horace, there’s something I want you to do. Look in my top bureau drawer and you’ll find a big stack of paper. It’s a book—sort of—Horace. I wrote it down in these last three months while I’ve been laid up. I wish you’d take it to that Peter Boyce Wendell who put my letter in his paper. He could tell you whether it’d be a good book. I wrote it just the way I talk, just the way I wrote that letter to him. It’s just a story about a lot of things that happened to me. Will you take it to him, Horace?”
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“我会的，亲爱的。”
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“Yes, darling.”
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他朝床头弯下身子，把头放在枕头上，挨着她，开始轻抚她金色的头发。
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He leaned over the bed until his head was beside her on the pillow, and began stroking back her yellow hair.
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“最最亲爱的玛西亚。”他温柔地说。
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“Dearest Marcia,” he said softly.
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“不，”她喃喃地说，“请按照我喜欢的方式叫我。”
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“No,” she murmured, “call me what I told you to call me.”
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“心肝宝贝，”他充满激情地轻声耳语道，“最最、最最亲爱的心肝宝贝。”
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“Dear heart,” he whispered passionately—“dearest heart.”
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“我们给她起个名字吧？”
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“What’ll we call her?”
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贺拉斯在为孩子想名字的时候，他们便能在这种幸福、安静的满足感中休息一会儿。
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They rested a minute in happy, drowsy content, while Horace considered.
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“我们叫她玛西亚·休姆·塔波克斯吧。”他终于说。
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“We’ll call her Marcia Hume Tarbox,” he said at length.
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“为什么叫休姆？”
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“Why the Hume?”
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“因为这家伙是我们的第一个见证人呀。”
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“Because he’s the fellow who first introduced us.”
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“这样啊？”她喃喃着，恹恹欲睡，又有点吃惊，“我还以为那个人叫穆恩呢。”
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“That so?” she murmured, sleepily surprised. “I thought his name was Moon.”
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她闭上眼睛，过了一会儿，她胸脯上的被单开始平缓地一起一伏，她睡着了。
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Her eyes dosed, and after a moment the slow, lengthening surge of the bedclothes over her breast showed that she was asleep.
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贺拉斯踮着脚尖走到书橱边，打开上面的抽屉，发现一摞字迹潦草，几乎是涂鸦般的书稿。他看了看第一页：
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Horace tiptoed over to the bureau and opening the top drawer found a heap of closely scrawled, lead-smeared pages. He looked at the first sheet:
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桑德拉·佩皮斯，简写本
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SANDRA PEPYS, SYNCOPATED
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玛西亚·塔波克斯
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BY MARCIA TARBOX
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他笑了。这么说来，塞缪尔·佩皮斯还是对她产生了影响。他翻了一页，开始看起来。他笑得更开心了——往下看了下去。半个小时过去了，他意识到玛西亚已经醒了，正从床上看着他。
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He smiled. So Samuel Pepys had made an impression on her after all. He turned a page and began to read. His smile deepened—he read on. Half an hour passed and he became aware that Marcia had waked and was watching him from the bed.
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“亲爱的。”耳畔传来了轻声的呼唤。
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“Honey,” came in a whisper.
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“什么事，玛西亚？”
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“What Marcia?”
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“你喜欢吗？”
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“Do you like it?”
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贺拉斯咳了一声。
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Horace coughed.
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“我还在看呢。很有趣。”
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“I seem to be reading on. It’s bright.”
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“把它送给彼得·博伊斯·文德尔。告诉他你在普林斯顿大学取得过最优秀的成绩，所以你知道一本书是不是好书。告诉他这本书会轰动全世界。”
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“Take it to Peter Boyce Wendell. Tell him you got the highest marks in Princeton once and that you ought to know when a book’s good. Tell him this one’s a world beater.”
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“好的，玛西亚。”贺拉斯温柔地说。
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“All right, Marcia,” Horace said gently.
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她的眼睛又闭上了，贺拉斯走过去吻了吻她的额头——他在她身边站了一会儿，脸上写满了温柔的怜惜。然后他离开了房间。
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Her eyes closed again and Horace crossing over kissed her forehead—stood there for a moment with a look of tender pity. Then he left the room.
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那一整晚，一页页涂鸦似的手稿、一连串的拼写错误和语法错误、一堆奇怪的标点符号，它们在他眼前跳动着。夜里他醒了几次，每次都对玛西亚在字里行间所流露出的灵魂的渴望充满了无法言喻的、难以抑制的同情。他对玛西亚写书这件事产生了极其怜惜的感觉，几个月以来，他第一次开始认真思考起几乎被自己遗忘了的梦想。
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All that night the sprawly writing on the pages, the constant mistakes in spelling and grammar, and the weird punctuation danced before his eyes. He woke several times in the night, each time full of a welling chaotic sympathy for this desire of Marcia’s soul to express itself in words. To him there was something infinitely pathetic about it, and for the first time in months he began to turn over in his mind his own half-forgotten dreams.
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他曾经打算撰写一部论文集来普及新现实主义，正如叔本华普及了悲观主义，威廉·詹姆斯普及了实用主义一样。
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He had meant to write a series of books, to popularize the new realism as Schopenhauer had popularized pessimism and William James pragmatism.
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然而，生活并不由人随心所欲。生活操纵了他，迫使他去表演吊环。回想起书房外的敲门声，休姆椅子上那个轻盈透亮的身影，玛西亚的索吻，他大笑起来。
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But life hadn’t come that way. Life took hold of people and forced them into flying rings. He laughed to think of that rap at his door, the diaphanous shadow in Hume, Marcia’s threatened kiss.
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“我还是我，”他躺在黑暗中毫无睡意，惊奇地大声说，“我还是那个坐在伯克利椅子上的莽夫，以为如果不想听，敲门声就不存在。我依然是那个人。我可能会因为自己犯下的罪过而被处以电刑。
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“And it’s still me,” he said aloud in wonder as he lay awake in the darkness. “I’m the man who sat in Berkeley with temerity to wonder if that rap would have had actual existence had my ear not been there to hear it. I’m still that man. I could be electrocuted for the crimes he committed.
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“可怜的、轻薄的灵魂试图以可感可触的方式讲述自己的人生。玛西亚和她写的书，我和我未写出的书。我们试图选择某些手段，得到我们想要的东西，并因此而感到幸福。”
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“Poor gauzy souls trying to express ourselves in something tangible. Marcia with her written book; I with my unwritten ones. Trying to choose our mediums and then taking what we get—and being glad.”
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tremendous [trə'mendəs] |
adj.巨大的;惊人的 |
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chorus ['kɔːrəs] |
n.合唱队;歌舞队;齐声说道;副歌部分 |
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Horace [ˈhɒrɪs] |
n.贺拉斯(古罗马抒情诗人) |
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gloomily ['ɡluːmɪli] |
adv.黑暗地;阴郁地;沮丧地 |
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half-wit ['hɑːfwɪt] |
n.愚蠢低能的人;笨蛋;傻瓜 |
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mellow ['meləʊ] |
adj.成熟的;醇的;熟练的 |
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engross [ɪn'ɡrəʊs] |
v.使全神贯注;独占;正式誊写;用大字体书写 |
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jotting ['dʒɒtɪŋ] |
n.匆匆记下的东西 |
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triumphant [traɪ'ʌmfənt] |
adj.胜利的;得意洋洋的 |
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continual [kən'tɪnjuəl] |
adj.不断的;频繁的;连续的 |
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freshness [freʃnəs] |
n.新鲜;精神饱满 |
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stoop [stuːp] |
n.佝偻;弯腰;屈尊;俯冲 vi. 屈身，弯腰; |
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Spencer ['spensə] |
n.(羊毛)短上衣;Spencer.斯宾塞(姓氏;男子名). |
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Muse [mjuːz] |
v.沉思;冥想 |
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enjoyable [ɪn'dʒɔɪəbl] |
adj.有趣的;愉快的 |
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broaden ['brɔːdn] |
v.变宽;扩大;开阔 |
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Gymnasium [dʒɪm'neɪziəm] |
n.体育馆;健身房(复数)gymnasia或gymnasiums. |
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Mens [menz] |
n.心灵;精神 |
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gymnastics [dʒɪm'næstɪks] |
n.体操 |
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contortion [kən'tɔːʃn] |
n.扭弯;扭曲 |
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stunt [stʌnt] |
n.特技;阻碍成长 |
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perch [pɜːtʃ] |
n.栖木;高位;杆;河鲈鱼 |
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proposition [ˌprɒpə'zɪʃn] |
n.提议;事业;命题 |
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circus ['sɜːkəs] |
n.马戏团;马戏表演;竞技场;广场 |
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quod [kwɒd] |
n.监狱;牢狱 |
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trapeze [trə'piːz] |
n. 吊杠(杂技演员和体操运动员用的) |
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takin ['tɑːkɪn] |
n.【动】羚牛;扭角羚 |
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chirp [tʃɜːp] |
v.吱喳而鸣;轻松愉快地说 |
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Newton ['njuːtən] |
n.牛顿(英国科学家) |
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stretchable [stretʃəbl] |
可伸展的;可延伸的 |
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pensive ['pensɪv] |
adj.沉思的;愁眉苦脸的 |
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gruff [ɡrʌf] |
adj.粗鲁的;生硬的;粗糙的;粗哑的 |
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wearily ['wɪərəli] |
adv.疲倦地;厌烦地 |
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gape [ɡeɪp] |
n.裂口;张嘴;打哈欠 |
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glare [ɡleə(r)] |
n.闪耀光;刺眼 |
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mat [mæt] |
n.垫子;席子 |
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amaze [ə'meɪz] |
vt.使吃惊;使惊异 |
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parabola [pə'ræbələ] |
n.【数】抛物线 |
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passionate ['pæʃənət] |
adj.热情的;激情的;易怒的 |
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gymnastic [dʒɪm'næstɪk] |
adj.体操的;体育的 |
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detach [dɪ'tætʃ] |
vt.使分离;拆卸;派遣【计算机】 脱离. |
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Hippodrome ['hɪpədrəʊm] |
n.赛马场;竞技场剧院 |
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felted ['feltɪd] |
v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结) |
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applause [ə'plɔːz] |
n.鼓掌;喝彩;赞许 |
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breathless ['breθləs] |
adj.喘不过气来的 |
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tiptoe ['tɪptəʊ] |
n.脚尖 |
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wan [wɒn] |
【1】 a. 脸色苍白的，有倦态的; |
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darling ['dɑːlɪŋ] |
n.亲爱的;可爱的人;可爱的物 |
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Dearest ['dɪərɪst] |
n.最亲爱的人;最可爱的人 |
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murmur ['mɜːmə(r)] |
n. 低沉连续的声音(如风的沙沙声、流水的淙淙声等); |
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lengthen ['leŋθən] |
v.加长;延长 |
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surge [sɜːdʒ] |
n.汹涌 |
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heap [hiːp] |
n.堆;许多;破车 |
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scrawly [skrɔːl] |
瞎画的；瞎写的 |
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Samuel [ˈsæmjuːəl] |
n.塞缪尔(男子名) |
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deepen ['diːpən] |
vt. 使 ... 加深; 使 ... 强烈 |
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grammar ['ɡræmə(r)] |
n.语法 |
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infinite ['ɪnfɪnət] |
adj.无穷的;无限的 |
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popularize ['pɒpjələraɪz] |
vt.普及;使流行;使通俗化 |
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realism ['riːəlɪzəm] |
n.现实态度;写实主义;唯实论 |
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diaphanous [daɪ'æfənəs] |
adj.透明的;模糊的 |
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temerity [tə'merəti] |
n.鲁莽;大胆 |
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tangible ['tændʒəbl] |
adj.可触摸的;实际的;有形的;确凿的 |
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gauzy [ˈgɔːzɪ] |
adj.纱似的;薄的 |
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unwritten [ˌʌn'rɪtn] |
adj.不成文的;没有写的;没有记录的;口头的 |
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